


Talk Laundry to Me

by valtersass



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Even quoting Romeo + Juliet, Fluff, Humour, Laundry room sex, M/M, Smut, Texting, cute boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 12:58:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13904508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valtersass/pseuds/valtersass
Summary: EVEN: SoYou are shocked because Ican’t remember to put dryersheets in?:DISAK: OmfgEvenNO(Or: Even can’t do the laundry and Isak’s determined to show him how to do it right.)





	Talk Laundry to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvensDramaticShenanigans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvensDramaticShenanigans/gifts).



> Okay so this fic is my first attempt at writing something without copying a movie kasjfkjd so uh I'm kind of nervous about it? Hopefully it's not too bad!
> 
> Shoutout to my favourite person in the world, Mack, whom this fic is for—pal you had to put up with so much of my bitching while I was writing this and kept encouraging me to keep on writing. I just wanna say thnaks for believing in me when I sure as heck didn’t sdkfjfd I love you bunches and I hope you enjoy your fic! <333
> 
> (Also shoutout to Mars bc without her help I never would’ve figured out how to write smut to begin with!) 
> 
> Enjoy xx

**Mannen i mitt liv <3**

I love you

<3

<3

<3

<3

<3

But

:O

BUT?!?!

</3

YOU HAVE TO PUT DRYER

SHEETS IN EVERY SINGLE

LOAD OF LAUNDRY

ESPECIALLY IN THE

WINTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

…

It’s like a lightning storm in here

as I’m trying to get our clothing

out to wear from what came out

of the dryer

So

You are shocked because I

can’t remember to put dryer

sheets in?

:D

Omfg

Even

NO

</3

I’m sorry :(

Please don’t leave me :(

Yeah…

I’m gonna need you to move

out when you get off work :/

:O

…that’s fair

:(

_Read 14:08_

***

It starts out very much the same way as any other morning would, and that begins with Even waking up to the very loud, very shrill tones of their alarm coming from his phone’s resting place on the bedside table and finding his soft boyfriend haphazardly sprawled out across his chest when he accidentally jostles him as he stretches out his limbs, feeling their legs tangled together beneath the duvet.

Isak’s face is nuzzling further into the crook of his neck as he pretends to still be asleep while the alarm continues to beep because _noo, Evi_ , he whines as he clings to Even, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist like a vice, _don’t wanna go, just wanna stay here with you forever._ And, well, there’s no way in hell Even can say no to that (his resolve always quick to leave him in all Isak-related matters that take place in the early morning when the boy in question is all cute and sleepy with a hint of grump) and so he allows Isak to have five more minutes—a _little_ shorter than forever, but hey, it’s the best he can do right now.

And honestly? It’s not like Even can really bring himself to leave the comfort of their warm bed nor disentangle himself from Isak just yet either, instead content to lie there for a little while longer, carding his fingers through Isak’s soft curls as the boy is quick to fall into a light sleep again while Even reaches over with his other arm to turn off the alarm.

It’s an inevitability, of course, that those mere five minutes turn into ten minutes and is then rapidly approaching fifteen by the time that Even is _finally_ able to muster up the self-control to stop his soothing ministrations of his fingers in Isak’s curls and moving his hand away altogether. The loss of such a comforting touch prompts Isak to be pulled back into the waking world with a small whine, particularly when Even extricates himself from Isak’s grasp, much to his disgruntlement as he rolls off Even and back onto the mattress. Isak pouts up at Even while he struggles to pull himself back up into a sitting position in the middle of the bed, still cocooned in their duvet, until the older boy sighs and rolls his eyes (a habit that  he’s most definitely picked up from Isak over the course of their relationship) and he drops the shirt he’d been about to put on.

And then he’s pouncing on the bed, promptly knocking Isak over, who squeals as Even straddles his waist and proceeds to smother him with kisses all over his pretty face several times over until the younger boy has been reduced to a mere writhing, giggling mess beneath him. It makes him a hell of a lot more compliant when Even, still sitting on his hips, leans over Isak with his arms braced on either side of his head, bringing their faces close enough together for their foreheads to touch and Even to nuzzle his nose against Isak’s, whispers that Isak “ _might want to get out of bed now, otherwise you’re gonna be late again._ ”

Not that Isak can _really_ bring himself to give a shit right now, not when Even is so close, not when his lips are right there, and if he leans in just a little bit more, they could be touching—

But Isak resists the urge and instead opts to roll his eyes with a resigned grunt as he shoves none too gently at Even’s chest to get him to move off him, and Even does as requested, clambering off Isak and sitting at the edge of the bed to allow Isak enough space to haul himself upright.

And, shit, he looks so cute and cuddly, in a grumpy grump sort of way, that Even can’t help but lean in and press the chastest of kisses to Isak’s lips, once more brushing their noses together as he does so, before he’s pulling away once again, picking up his discarded shirt and yanking it over his head on his way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

In the meantime, and with a minimal amount of grumbling, Isak dresses himself in the first articles of clothing that he can get his hands on from their growing floordrobe, which he then regards with his nose wrinkled in disgust, making a mental note to have it dealt with _soon_.

(He’s been telling himself this for at least a week by now, says it every time he spots a new piece of clothing on the floor, but at the end of the day, he just can’t be assed to actually _do_ anything about it, which is how it’s even reached the point where _he_ knows it’s gross.)

After, he joins Even in the kitchen, moving behind him to sluggishly wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, resting his head against Even’s shoulder with a muffled groan, and Even pauses briefly in his cooking to twist around and press a soft kiss to Isak’s forehead, his lips stretching into a grin when he feels Isak’s own smile against his shoulder.

Because he’s already late, Isak scarfs down the scrambled eggs Even’s made as soon as they’re ready, eating them right out of the pan with a fork because neither boy can really be bothered to properly serve it onto plates and waste more time as they’re already going to have to hurry to catch the tram (and there’s also the slight matter that basically _all_ their dishes are dirty).

While Isak eats, Even makes sure that Isak’s bag is ready, because even though Isak _swears_ up and down that he packed it all the night before, it’s chill, more often than not he’s forgotten something vital and ends up throwing the apartment into total chaos as he tries to find the Very Important Thing he’s supposed to have, and Even would _very_ much prefer it if no more unnecessary mess was added to the pre-existing clutter of the apartment this morning because it’s going to be hellish enough to clean already, thank you very much.

He returns to the kitchen just as Isak’s finishing up and putting the pan into the sink to be washed at a later date, and Isak takes his backpack from Even, reaching up and kissing his cheek in thanks as he does so, and when they’re in the hallway, just before they walk out the door, Even wraps Isak’s scarf around his neck, using it as leverage to pull Isak to him for a long, deep kiss. Even’s hand reaches out to clutch at Isak’s when they finally start their walk down to the tram stop, and Even swings their clasped hands between them, a skip in his step, while Isak tries and fails to maintain his grumpiness as he walks in a _normal_ manner instead of skipping along the pavement as his idiotic boyfriend is doing, but the corners of his lips are tugging up into a small smile at Even’s antics.

It’s once they reach the tram stop that Even drops Isak’s hand in favour of wrapping an arm around his middle and tugging him close to fit snugly between his thighs, leaning forward and resting his chin in the crook of Isak’s neck. Isak lets out a soft, content sigh as he melts into Even’s arms, and that’s when Even wraps his other arm securely around him as well, starts to vigorously rub his cheek against Isak’s in a way that has laughter bubbling in his boy’s chest and earns Even an elbow digging into his side in a vain attempt to get him to “ _stop it, oh my god!_ ”

Unfortunately for Isak, this only serves to spur Even on as he too laughs delightedly at Isak’s attempt to squirm away from him, only succeeding when the tram pulls up to the stop and Even’s grip on him starts to slacken, enabling him to break free with sudden ease, and he makes a run for it. As he races up the steps, his lips quirk in a coy smile over his shoulder at Even as the older boy hurries after him, finally catching up when Isak sits down on one of the seats by the window, and when Even takes his place beside him, Isak curls into his side and rests his head on Even’s shoulder, staring out the window as he absently fidgets with their fingers (their hands having been clasped together once more) all the way until they reach their destination.

Although the tram stops just a little way away from the school, the walk to Hartvig Nissen is a slow one, as Isak and Even have a tendency to dawdle, not at all too keen on parting ways, both too clingy for their own good, _especially_ when it comes to being separated for hours at a time. Which is why, as usual, they’re almost impossible to separate once they’re standing outside the gates of Nissen, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms and exchanging kisses, a murmured “ _goodbye_ ” following each one as they are much too reluctant to actually let go of each other.

Well…at least until Even, after pulling away from their _n_ th kiss of the morning, whispers against Isak’s lips “Parting is such sweet sorrow” before he brings their lips together again, managing to get in one last kiss before Isak realises what he’d just said, and he promptly groans low in his throat, shoves Even away, their lips detaching with a soft _pop!_ as he rolls his eyes.

“All right, mister,” Isak declares loudly, making a show of furiously wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, taking several steps backward until he’s through the school gates. “I’m leaving now. Bye!”

“ _No-o-o_!” Even whines, pouting like a petulant child, which ultimately does _not_ have the desired effect on Isak (probably because _he’s_ the one that invented that look and is thus immune to it) and he simply just keeps on walking further and further away from Even with a shit-eating grin on his face, waggling his fingers in farewell.

And then there’s a smirk of a similar variety on Even’s lips as he brings his hands up to cup his mouth so that Isak is able to hear him loud and clear when he hollers, “I love you!”

His declaration has Isak screeching to an abrupt halt, his shit-eating grin wiped clean from his lips, and although he _knows_ Even can’t see, he can’t help but lower his head bashfully to hide his rapidly reddening cheeks as that familiar fluttering feeling in his belly comes to life with those three words. He’s still prone to disbelief that there’s someone who actually loves him, his years of abandonment and insecurity and denial leaving him with the doubt that he would ever find someone who would make him feel as whole and content as he is with Even, which is what encourages Isak to finally raise his head to yell back, “Love you too!” before turning on his heels and sprinting for the school building, his lips twitching into a softer smile.

And across the courtyard, Even watches as his boy disappears into the building, a dopey grin on his face which remains there as he too leaves, turns his back to the school and ambles along down the street back to the tram stop. His grin dims once he comes to the realisation that he doesn’t have anyone to hold as he waits this time around and so instead wraps his arms around himself, bounces on the balls of his feet, restless.

When the tram does arrive, it’s to a pouting Even, who’s reached the inevitable conclusion that he’s doomed to an Isakless day, his mood lifting when he remembers that _oh, right_ , phones are a thing, it’s chill, he can just text Isak and therefore it’s decisively _not_ an Isakless day—ha!

**Mannen i mitt liv <3**

What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?

-_-

Not having that, which, having makes them short

Even

Yes, my love?

It’s been like 10 minutes

But

I love you :(

That’s sweet and all

But you know what I love more?

Clean laundry

Nonononon

You’re supposed to say

I know!

I love you too <3 <3

You should do the laundry!

:/

:/

:/

No thanks

Please Even <3

What’s in it for me?

????

You mean

Aside from having clean clothes that

haven’t been crumpled up on the floor

for weeks????

Yeah

Absolutely nothing

:/

:/

:/

:/

Omfg

-_-

Evi

…

If you do the laundry

You’ll get anything you want

as a reward

Is that enough incentive for

you??????????

Anything?

A n y t h i n g

Hmm

You drive a hard bargain, Valtersen

Does that mean you’ll fucking

do it??

Please <3

Under love’s heavy burden do I sink

…k thx

You go do that

I love you too <3 <3

***

And that right there is what has brought Even to his current predicament in which, during his tedious shift at the KB, he’s transfixed by his phone, because oh, _boy_ , did he sink big time if Isak leaving him on read is anything to go by.

Well, just how the heck was _he_ supposed to know that apparently, you’re not supposed to just chuck everything into the dryer without adding a fucking dryer sheet of all things into the mix? What even _is_ a dryer sheet? Have they always been a thing? He doesn’t think so, but then again, in all his twenty years of life, his only attempts at doing his own laundry have been few and far between.

Ah, the perks of living at home, with your parents, where everything’s magically done for you. Too bad none of that kind of magic carried over with him when he moved out of his parents’ residence and into a flat with his boyfriend.

Or, well, it did, in a sense, because out of all the available chores that came along with a place to call their own, Isak was always the one to take care of the laundry (“ _See, baby? I can be useful. I am the_ master _of being useful_.”) and that typically left Even dealing with basically everything else, which is becoming a little more common these days as Isak grows increasingly stressed with third year and thus being a little slack with the laundry (hence the massive floordrobe they’ve had going on for the last few weeks).

So, yeah, he didn’t exactly get the memo that there was a specific way the laundry had to be done, his mistake.

(But he could totally use some magic right about now, especially since Isak may or may not be serious about him moving out. Which, you know, he doubts very much, but still. You never know with his boy.)

It’s when someone clears their throat that Even is jolted out of his musings and thrust back into reality and, right, he’s still at work, he’s supposed to be working, and holding up what’s beginning to be a long line of customers, the first of which is staring at him awfully annoyed, all because he was too busy with texting Isak, doesn’t really seem like the right way to go about that.

_Oops._

So Even quickly slips his phone into his back pocket, pushes all Isak-related thoughts to the side, and puts on his most charming smile as he begins to take the first of a shitload of orders, working faster than usual to make up for the hold up, and he barely has any time to _breathe_ , let alone worry about Isak’s potential threat via text, so he kind of forgets about that in no time.

When his shift comes to a merciful end a couple of hectic hours later, Even fishes his phone back out of his pocket to send a text to Isak, letting him know that he’s on his way home, complete with a couple heart emojis short of a dozen.

And when that doesn’t receive the usual half-as-many heart emojis in response—rather, he gets _no_ response—Even brushes it off as nothing; maybe Isak was busy studying or something, because that’s what he does most of the time, especially nowadays, thus Even begins his trek home with a pout on his lips the whole time.

***

If Even was a little disappointed at receiving no text, that’s nothing compared to how put out he feels about having his arrival home met in very much the same fashion.

(It usually goes like this: when he walks in through the front door at this hour along with a proclamation of “Honey, I’m home!” there’s Isak waiting for him on the other side with smiles and kisses in between which they’ll exchange pleasantries, kind of like how they say goodbye to each other outside Nissen. From there, they’ll move into the bedroom, because after spending a whole day of being separated, their favourite way to unwind in the evenings is to curl up into each other in their bed and bask in the other’s comforting warmth; sometimes along with soft kisses, and conversations in hushed whispers about their days at other times.)

So, to not have such a welcome waiting for him is a little disconcerting for Even, to say the least. But Isak’s coat is hanging up, his shoes in a pile by the door, so he’s quite obviously at home somewhere.

Even takes off his jacket, hangs it up in its rightful place next to Isak’s, steps out of his shoes and kicks them up against the wall so they’re not a tripping hazard, doing the same for Isak’s before venturing further into the flat.

The table in the kitchen isn’t covered in biology notes, as it normally would be at this hour, which is also weird, because there’s been many an occasion when Even’s had to forcibly remove said notes from Isak, especially at dinner, because this table is for eating, Isak, so “ _unless you want to get shit all over your notes and face Sana’s wrath, I really think we should move them, yeah?”_

He does end up finding Isak in the bedroom, because that’s the only room left in the small space he hasn’t looked in yet (it also helps that the door was left wide open so Even can clearly see him through the doorway).

Isak is sitting on top of the covers, back propped up by both their pillows, hunched over his laptop screen at an angle that definitely cannot be good for his neck; next to him is his phone, blinking with an unread text notification, and at the foot of the bed is an empty basket he must’ve used earlier when he was taking the washing out of the dryer.

Apparently sensing Even’s presence from where he still lingers in the doorway, Isak raises his head, gaze flicking up from the screen, and it’s when Isak gives him too wide a smile that Even realises _uh-oh, he’s in trouble_.

“Oh, good! You’re here,” Isak says primly, in lieu of an actual _hi, hello, oh baby I’ve missed you so much_ , interrupting Even before he even has a chance to say anything. “All your shit is waiting for you in the laundry room, just so you know.”

And with that, Isak’s attention promptly returns to whatever the hell it is that he’d been in the middle of doing on his laptop, leaving Even to gawk at him in bewilderment because what, why is his stuff in the laundry room? That’s just so… _random._

“I’d like to see you try and laugh when dealing with your attempt at doing the laundry,” Isak adds huffily, without glancing up, almost as if he can read Even’s mind (or at the very least sense his utter confusion) and, hey! His attempt wasn’t that bad…was it? “Have fun with moving out!”

It takes a moment or two for his nonchalant words to sink in, and when they do, it’s to Isak’s diabolical delight that Even lets out an almighty squawk.

“Wait, _WHAT_?!”

Isak, being the gleeful little shit that he is, still doesn’t look up from his computer screen, his tongue sticking out slightly in concentration, his only reaction to Even’s outburst being a simple shrug. “Well, _I’m_ not going to live under the same roof as someone who makes the shittiest puns out of my pain, so you can do your own fucking laundry!”

“But _Issy_!” Even complains, dramatically launching his body onto the bed, landing on his back at Isak’s side. “It was _funny_.”

Isak responds with a disgruntled _harrumph_. “No, _Ev_ , it really _wasn’t_.”

Even lets out a long-suffering sigh up at the ceiling, and then rolls over so that his front is plastered up against Isak’s side, resting his head on his shoulder, throwing an arm over Isak’s chest in some semblance of a cuddle, his arm squeezing tightly. “You’re just no fun,” he huffs sulkily.

“Um, ex _cuse_ you,” Isak scoffs, twisting a little bit under the heavy weight of Even’s arm so that he may glare at his boyfriend. “I can be fun. I am the _master_ of fun. You’ve just got a really shit sense of humour. And, by the way, you’re the one who agreed to move out.”

Even lifts his head up off Isak’s shoulder, eyes squinting, brows furrowing as he tries to recall a time he ever said _hell yeah, I’ll move out, that sounds like an amazing idea_! “Um, pretty sure I didn’t?”

“Eh, you said ‘that was fair,’” Isak admits with a dismissive wave of his hand, “but that’s just as good as agreeing!”

“I didn’t think that you were being serious!” Even exclaims, his voice rising an octave. He’s still having difficulty figuring out whether or not Isak’s pulling his leg.

Isak sniffs haughtily, holds his head up high. “Well, I was and I still am. So, you’d better get to it, mister.”

Even leans away slightly, staring up at Isak, giving him his best _are you shitting me_ look, but he doesn’t retract the arm he still has wrapped around the other boy. “Oh my God, you’re actually serious?”

Isak responds with a noncommittal _mhm_ noise as he is once again absorbed by the computer screen, which is, at this point, getting kind of annoying, as Even is going to need his full attention if he is to have any hope of persuading Isak to change his mind, thank you very much.

“But bab _y_ ,” Even whines, drawing out the ‘y’ as he swiftly yanks on Isak, who lets out an indignant squawk as he watches his laptop slowly slide off his lap and tumble onto the floor while Even keeps pulling on him until Isak’s lying all the way on top of him, his back pressed to Even’s chest, and Even hugs him close, tightly, with both arms now, buries his face into the crook of Isak’s neck. “I said I’m sorry.”

Isak, when it becomes apparent that nope, Even’s not going to be letting go of him anytime soon no matter how much he struggles, huffs an irritated sigh and crosses his arms, which is a little bit of a challenge when someone’s got their arms wrapped around you, and pouts up at the ceiling. “‘ _Sorry’_ doesn’t magically make it better, Even!”

Which, yeah, Even already knows that, but a guy can dream that an apology will somehow automatically make everything better, dammit! (Otherwise what’s the point in being taught as a child that ‘sorry’ is a magical fix-it for all your troubles when, clearly, that’s false as fuck?)

But dreaming about such notions isn’t exactly going to be beneficial whatsoever in the real world, so instead, Even heaves a heavy sigh. “So, what _can_ I do to make it better then, baby?” he murmurs, pressing his lips to Isak’s neck in a soft kiss. “I’ll do anything.”

Evidently that was the right thing to say as a sly smile tugs at Isak’s lips, his brain already formulating an idea on just how Even would be able to make it up to him (as if he hadn’t already had it all figured out, just in case such an opportunity as this arose). He shifts a little against the arms still holding him, and Even reluctantly loosens his grip so that Isak can turn around, their chests now firmly pressed together, and Isak leans an elbow on the pillow by Even’s head, props his chin up in his hand.

“Anything?” he asks, his voice sultry, all traces of petulance gone as the fingers of his other hand begin to slowly walk their way down Even’s body, and _oh yeah_ , Even definitely likes where this is going, _a lot_.

“Anything,” he breathes out, body taut with anticipation as Isak’s fingers inch closer to where he needs them most, their simple touch leaving behind a pleasant tingling sensation on Even’s skin and he shudders, his breath hitching and quickening.

“Hmm,” Isak hums, shifting the arm he’d been leaning on to hold onto Even’s shoulder for leverage as he leans in, brings their faces closer until they’re breathing in the same air, watches how Even’s eyes, dark and hooded and clouded with lust, fixate on his lips, tongue darting out to lick his own, and when he speaks, their lips brush. “I can think of something…”

“Yeah?” Even murmurs, voice husky, the sound of it sending thrills down Isak’s spine and causing his breath to hitch in turn.

Then he leans further into Even’s space, his hand lingering on the waistband of Even’s pants, threatening to go inside, and he’s so ready for it, ready for Isak to reach in already and wrap his hand around his cock and Isak’s teeth are suddenly grazing his earlobe, his soft voice whispering in his ear causing him to shiver and he’s so far gone Isak’s words don’t register at first.

“Do your laundry.”

And then, just like that, it’s over all too quickly; and Isak is swiftly withdrawing his hand that had been playing with Even’s waistband, brings both hands up to Even’s chest to hold him down firmly as Isak wrenches himself out of his arms, his hold having gone quite slack around Isak, having been too caught up in Isak touching him, and he promptly springs away from the bed, leaving a very much mystified Even, whose brain is slowly trying to figure out what the fuck just happened, in his wake.

“Come on, baby!” Isak chirps when Even makes absolutely no move to get off the bed, causing Isak to lean over and proceed to poke him in quick succession to punctuate his words. “Don’t you want to make it up to me?”

“Not really in the mood right now,” Even grumbles, throwing one arm dramatically over his face and covering his eyes and mouth, while using his other hand to swatting Isak’s hand away, because if he’s going to touch him purely with the intent to annoy and not for other, more _pleasurable_ things, then Isak can damn well keep his hands to himself, thank you very much. And doing the laundry at this time of the night—18:00? 19:00? well, some time along those lines—isn’t really part of Even’s definition of a good time. So, yeah, he’s definitely not in the mood.

But Isak’s nothing if not persistent, thus he stands resolutely at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips, and musters up his best authoritative tone. “Even, either we do this now, or we won’t be making up at all!”

“You’re the one that fucking left me with blue balls!” Even protests huffily, his voice muffled by his arm. “I think it’s you who should be making it up to me!”

Isak snorts. As if that was going to fucking happen! (But who’s he kidding; fucking is going to happen…eventually, because, somehow, that’s how them trying to solve issues ends up. Not that he’s complaining.) “Hey, you were the one mocking me with a terrible pun! I think that’s a far more serious offense than blue balling, don’t you think?”

“Not really, no.” Nevertheless, Even removes his arm from his face and pushes himself upright with a sigh and a pout, as if this was the biggest inconvenience ever to befall him. “But fine. You win.” It’s best for everyone involved that this is resolved sooner rather than later, anyway.

Isak beams and leans over to cup Even’s cheeks between his hands. “Aw, baby!” he coos as he peppers kisses across Even’s face several times over, which causes a sudden shift to develop in Even’s pissy mood as laughter begins to bubble in his chest, breaks free from his lips, bright and joyous, a pretty shade of pink colouring his cheeks under Isak’s affections. “I’m so happy you’ve changed your mind!” Isak lets go of Even’s face then in favour of reaching down and wrapping his hand around Even’s wrist to haul him to his feet in one swift motion. “Come on, we’ve got things to do, places to go.”

 

***

And that’s the story of how Even finds himself standing in the middle of their apartment building’s laundry room at 19:30 on a week night when he’s got a much earlier shift at work the following morning, and right now would much prefer to be instead cuddling his boyfriend in the comfort of their bed.

The same boyfriend who is, unfortunately, responsible for dragging his ass down here and wasting no time upon their arrival at the laundry room to shove a basket that’s just about overflowing with clothes, a bottle of detergent balanced precariously on top, into Even’s arms so suddenly that it’s a scramble for him to even hold the fucking thing due to its weight and Isak letting go of it _wa-a-ay_ too fucking soon for his liking.

“Well?” Isak demands as he then hoists himself up to sit atop one of the many machines that take up the room, making himself comfortable in his new position by leaning his weight back onto his warms, while Even continues to just stand in front of him and stare expectantly. “What are you waiting for? Your laundry isn’t going to wash itself, you do realise.”

Even simply raises his eyebrows, shifts the basket in his arms to get a steadier grip on it, his expectant gaze unwavering. “Aren’t you going to help? Since, you know, you’re the one that doesn’t like the way I do the laundry and all?”

Isak scrunches up his face, his nose subsequently also wrinkling in a way that Even finds _ugh_ , so utterly endearing. “Um, _no_ , because that—that’s not how this _works_! _You’re_ doing the laundry and _I_ am just…going to sit right here—” He thumps the machine he’s sitting on. “—and watch.”

Even huffs a sigh and turns away as he rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t see the point in arguing, deciding it’s _whatever_ , and when he does eventually lean down to place the basket on the floor, Isak is watching him with a little self-satisfied smirk because _damn,_ that’s a great view of Even’s ass. All the while, _he’s_ unaware that Even is _definitely_ aware of his eyes on him as he, still bent over, opens the door on the washing machine, because why else would Even choose the machine right in front of Isak?

Even reaches for the basket of washing, then, first removing the bottle of detergent and putting it on top of the washer, and then he starts to take items out one by one and chucking them into the machine, which almost immediately elicits a tut in response rom his loving boyfriend, who’s shaking his head in disappointment behind him.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Isak taunts in a sing-song voice, and Even tilts his head, glances up at him from over his shoulder with squinted eyes.

“What do you _mean_ I’m doing it wrong?” he demands. “I’m _literally_ putting the clothes into the machine. That’s how you do laundry!”

“Well, yeah,” Isak huffs and rolls his eyes, “but that’s not the _first_ thing you do. First, you have to sort them into whites and colours. _Then_ you can start putting them in the machine.”

Even just stares up at him witheringly because _oh my God, is this what Isak’s really going to be like for the whole. Fucking. Time?_ “Does it matter?”

“Um, yeah? Kind of? I mean, unless you want your whites to be a really ugly mess of colours, then by all means, go ahead.”

_Oh, for fuck’s sake!_ “There aren’t any whites in there!”

“Well, how would _you_ know?” Isak fires back snootily, leaning forward to cross his arms over his chest. “You didn’t even check!”

Even grits his teeth together then, because yeah, that’s true, and so he dutifully takes out what he’d already put into the machine to make sure that, as requested, there aren’t any whites, and—surprise! There aren’t any. Just as he’d thought! He expects that the basket is going to yield the same results as he proceeds to sort through it, which takes a while because, well, there’s a lot of stuff in there, only to reach the bottom and have had no encounters whatsoever with anything that _isn’t_ coloured and wasted, oh, about _ten minutes of his life_.

(Well…there were a few pairs of white socks. Oh, and that pair of white boxers, too. But they don’t count—not enough to _deserve_ their own separate wash, anyway.)

He turns to look up at Isak again, who just looks down at him from his perch, innocently batting his pretty green eyes at him—as if _that’s_ going to fool Even into actually believing Isak did nothing wrong; he’s knows damn well just how much of a little shit he’s capable of being.

So Even turns back to the machine, more than slightly miffed as he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves before he resumes chucking everything into the machine again. With his back now turned, he misses the way that Isak’s eyes twitch, his hands gripping the sides of the machine he’s sitting on hard enough that his knuckles whiten when he sees the white socks and boxers get thrown into the mix.

Maybe it _wasn’t_ the brightest idea he’s ever had to have Even do the laundry. It’s beginning to feel more like a punishment for _Isak_ rather than _Even_ like it was fucking _supposed to be_. Ugh!

In the end, what was in the basket is enough to take up two whole washing machines. Coincidentally, it’s also enough to make Even wonder just exactly how much of this shit is actually his?

(The answer is, of course, _all of it_ , but he’s not about to admit that so readily.)

Even clambers to his feet, picks up the bottle of detergent and pours the liquid in a small cup which he then quickly empties into the designated drawer on the washing machine. After he slams said drawer shut, he just about sags over with relief when he realises that he’s _finally_ done with the heinous chore of loading the washing machines. _Halle-fucking-lujah_.

Now that both machines are on and, well, _washing_ , Even picks up the empty basket and deposits it on top of the machine next to Isak, which he then leans up against as he faces said boy, crossing his arms as he does so. “So…what do we do now?” he wonders.

Isak scrunches up his face, shrugging slightly as he leans back on his hands. “I don’t _know_. Jeez. Anything you want to, I guess.”

Then all of a sudden there’s a mischievous smirk gracing Even’s lips, a glint of something akin to hunger lurking in his blue, blue eyes as he closes the distance between them in one long stride, crowding up against Isak, who is effectively trapped when Even braces himself on his hands that he places on either side of Isak.

“Anything?” Even whispers with a waggle of his eyebrows, lips mere inches away from Isak’s.

With a small smile of his own, Isak tilts his head back, looks up at Even from under heavily hooded eyes. “Anything,” he breathes.

And that’s all the confirmation Even needs before he leans in the rest of the way, moving his hands up to cup Isak’s face, to crush their mouths together, all heat and teeth and tongue, and Isak is fisting Even’s shirt, pulling him in closer. One of Even’s hands trails down Isak’s body, leaving behind a trail of goose bumps on Isak’s flesh, and Even grabs at his leg, dragging Isak forward, towards the edge of the dryer he’s sitting on.

As he’s tugged forward, Isak releases Even’s shirt in favour of cupping the boy’s neck, his other hand reaching out, grabbing at Even’s hip to position him better in his place between Isak’s thighs, his nails softly grazing over Even’s skin when his shirt rides up his abdomen, causing Even to gasp into the kiss, his hips bucking wildly, his crotch unexpectedly making contact with Isak’s.

Isak shudders then, pulls away from the kiss with a gasp. Even’s lips continue to stay on him, simply moving to Isak’s cheek, then he trails hot, wet kisses across his jaw and down to his neck, where Even begins to suck a bruise, and Isak can’t help the high-pitched noise that escapes him as Even’s teeth graze his flesh, his head tilting back on instinct to give Even more access to his throat, his hand sliding up the back of Even’s neck to grip hair at his hair, earning him a gentle nip from the older boy.

Another moan rips free of Isak’s throat, and he clamps his thighs firmly around Even’s hips, keeping him locked in place as his own hips lift up to grind against Even, which has him groaning into the crook of Isak’s neck, his hands snaking around him to take hold of Isak’s ass, squeezing and pulling him impossibly closer, letting Even grind down against Isak just as hard.

Lips still attached to Isak’s throat, Even’s hands begin to wander up his ass, kneading the soft flesh through the rough denim of his jeans as his hands gravitate upward, towards the waistband of Isak’s bands, and then his thumbs are hooking into the waistband, prompting Isak to lift his hips up again to make it easier for even to yank his pants halfway down his legs.

When he’s met with bare skin instead of boxers, which is what he’d kind of been expecting, Even lifts his head from Isak’s neck to rest his forehead against Isak’s, nuzzling their noses together as he raises an eyebrow. “No underwear?” he breathes against his lips.

“No,” Isak says slowly with a hint of _duh_ in his voice, “because _you_ didn’t do the laundry so…I didn’t have any clean ones to wear.” He shrugs casually as if to say _well what can you do?_

Even lets out a mock offended gasp, a hand flying immediately to his chest as he pulls away from Isak, who pouts at the loss of touch, of his nose nuzzles. “Ex _cuse_ me, but that’s not _my_ fault. Doing the laundry is _your_ thing.” He pokes none too gently at Isak’s chest and the boy makes a show of dramatically falling back onto his elbows. “Maybe if you’d done it a bit sooner, you wouldn’t have had this problem.”

“O _h_!” Isak exclaims heatedly, his head snapping up to fix a glare on Even. “ _Well_ , if me not wearing underwear is such a _problem_ for you…” He hauls himself upright into a sitting position again, abruptly, and starts to pull his pants back up to cover himself, wiggling his hips as he does so because it’s a tricky feat to do when you’re sitting on top of a dryer, apparently.

And then Even’s hands are back on Isak at once, promptly slapping his hands away before Isak is able to cover up the goods, hooking his thumbs back into the waistband of his pants. “I did _not_ say that,” Even scoffs, and then he’s pulling Isak’s pants down again, this time until they’re off his legs completely, pooled on the ground in front of the machine. Isak scoffs, looking displeased.

“That’s _exactly_ what you said. That it’s a problem. Your words, not mine.”

Even raises a teasing eyebrow, placing his hands back onto Isak’s hips which causes the boy to shiver, thumbs tracing in slow circles on his hip bones. “Oh, it’s the complete opposite. It’s not _my_ problem that you’re not wearing any underwear. My problem was watching your ass in those tight little jeans of yours and not busting a fucking nut.”

A shocked laugh escapes Isak and he covers his mouth with his hand, his face turning a beautiful shade of crimson as he looks away from Even. “ _Jesus_ , Even!”

“And you giving me blue fucking balls all the way down here and here we are now, and I’m so fucking ready to just pull you off this dryer, turn you around, and take you from behind.”

Isak grins, biting his lip as he looks Even straight in the eyes, wraps his arms securely around his neck. “You can take me any way you want me, baby.”

Even huffs in relief, mumbling a “ _fuck_ ” before he pulls Isak from the top of the dryer and steadying him on his feet with both hands on his hips. “You sure?”

Isak nods, licking his lips, leaning in to whisper against Even’s lips, “Just fucking fuck me, fucking Christ, Even.”

Even laughs, rolling his eyes before turning Isak around, pressing him up against the front of the dryer. Isak hisses at the feeling, his dick brushing against the cold metal as Even kicks his legs apart at the ankles, and he can hear the unzipping of Even’s jeans behind him and his breathing intensifies as his heart races faster in anticipation. “Do you need me to prep you, baby?”

Isak bites his lip, thinking for a minute. “Yes, please.”

Even reaches across for the empty basket—well, it’s not _quite_ empty, since there’s this handy little pocket that is attached to it (as it’s one of the mesh baskets rather than wicker) which they use not for detergent as it’s probably intended but rather it’s where they keep their lube (one of many that they’ve got hidden in kind of bizarre places for, you know, just in case).

He fishes the lube out of the pocket and opens up the bottle, squeezing enough out onto his middle and index fingers that they’re properly coated, rubs them together to warm up the lube. Then he’s draping himself across Isak’s back, his arm reaching down, and when his fingers find his hole, gently circling his rim, Isak shivers, a quiet moan escaping his lips.

Even’s face nuzzles into the crook of Isak’s neck, his lips ghosting over the flesh at the hollow of his throat, moving up to Isak’s jaw, where he lays a quick kiss. “You ready?”

Isak responds with an impatient huff and he grinds out from between clenched teeth, “Even, just. Hurry up and put your fingers in me. Fucking hell.”

_Well!_ Alright then.

Even begins to slide his index finger in slowly, the breach eliciting a guttural moan from Isak, his back arching beautifully as Even’s finger pulls out and then enters him again, pushing inside him a little deeper. Isak groans, knuckles whitening as he grips at the sides of the dryer tighter.

“Relax, baby,” Even murmurs as he enters his middle finger, and Isak bites his lip as Even begins to pump slowly but quickly ups the pace, and Isak falls apart, moaning and writhing as Even pumps faster, harder, curling his fingers just right to hit the perfect spot inside Isak and he cries out in ecstasy. Even lavishes wet kisses across his neck and shoulder as Isak clenches around his two fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers entering and exiting the younger boy filling the room.

“Fuck, Ev, I’m— _ah_!—I’m close,” Isak moans out, and at once Even is slowly removing his fingers, prompting Isak to whine at the loss, head falling forward, breathing heavily.

Even’s hands find Isak’s hips again, uses his grip on them to pull Isak up off the dryer, turns him around so they’re standing chest to chest. A small, fond smile tugs at the corners of Even’s lips as he glimpses Isak’s face, cheeks flushed and eyes heavily hooded as he stares up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. Even reaches out and tucks a stray curl behind Isak’s ear, strokes his cheek and tilts his head back, captures his lips in a slow, languid kiss that has Isak melting into him, hand gripping the back of his neck.

Even’s nails dig into the soft flesh Isak’s hips hard enough to leave marks as he shoves him up against the dryer with an aggression that contradicts the softness of their kiss, and a strangled moan escapes Isak, his hands tugging eagerly at the waistband of Even’s jeans as he pulls away from the kiss, rubbing himself on Even’s still-clothed thigh with a breathy whine.

“Even, _please_.”

Even leans forward to peck his lips once, twice more and then he’s stepping out of Isak’s space to begin sliding his own pants and underwear down his legs, his dick hard on his stomach and leaking with pre-cum. Isak licks his lips at the sight of it, and when Even presses forward on him again, he’s taking his dick in his hand, stroking its length and rubbing his thumb across the tip, eliciting a deep moan from Even that he muffles in the crook of Isak’s neck.

Isak reaches an arm out for the laundry basket at his side, blindly searching for the condoms—again in the basket pocket—along with the lube. When he finds their stash, he rips open the condom with his teeth and rolls it swiftly onto Even’s dick, then shoves the lube at Even, who then applies a generous amount of lube to his dick. He sets the lube back on the dryer and (because he doesn’t really have anywhere else) he wipes off the excess lube on the hem of his shirt, grabbing one of Isak’s legs and hiking it up around his hip.

“Ready?”

Isak nods vigorously and Even gives a quiet chuckle at how eager he is, and then he’s aligning himself with Isak’s hole, pressing the tip on the entrance, causing Isak to shiver with the feeling, goose bumps appearing on his flesh, hands reaching up to dig his fingernails into Even’s shoulders.

Even lets out a harsh grunt as he presses forward, his dick sliding into Isak with a practiced ease, and both boys let out a groan. The edge of the dryer is digging uncomfortably into the small of Isak’s back as Even pulls out and pushes back in harder, causing a grunt to escape Isak’s lips.

“You okay?” Even asks in a murmur, his voice rough and sultry, and Isak nods.

“Just move, please.”

Even places a hand on the thigh of the leg Isak’s got wrapped around him, hiking it higher as he begins to thrust, slow at first, slow enough for Isak to adjust to the feeling of him inside him, and at a nod, Even begins to thrust harder and faster, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the laundry room as Even fucks Isak against the dryer, and Isak’s so caught up in his own desire that he barely registers the dryer digging into him anymore as they moan out each other’s names. Even fucks Isak ruthlessly and he falls back on top of the dryer, Even following shortly after, his arms on either side of Isak’s head, caging him in.

Isak cries out as Even hits his prostate from this new angle, pleasure flowing white hot through his veins, toes curling and hands scrambling for purchase on Even’s sweaty skin. “Fuck—Even—Close—I’m about to come,” Isak manages to gasp out as Even continues to thrust in and out of Isak, hands gripping hard on his hips, surely going to leave bruises.

“Fuck, Isak. Come for me, please, I’m so fucking close,” Even grumbles into his neck, and Isak begins to whimper as Even grasps his dick with his hand, jerking Isak off in rhythm with his thrusts, and he cries out at the stimulation, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as the warmth in his abdomen begins to build and _burn_. It takes one more jerk for Isak to come, white hot liquid spewing all over the front of Even’s shirt, his hand, and Isak sighs with relief, his legs trembling from his orgasm.

“Come on, Even. Come, please,” Isak begs, digging his fingernails into his back, and Even comes quickly with a cry of Isak’s name as he fills the condom, putting in a few more shallow thrusts before pulling out completely and collapsing on top of Isak, thoroughly spent.

“ _Fuck_ , Even,” Isak pants, a small smile tracing his lips as he runs his fingers through Even’s hair, the older boy letting out a soft groan at his ministrations that reverberates through his chest.

“Mhm,” Even hums in agreement, lifting his head from Isak’s neck and leaning in to press their lips together, and Isak sighs happily into the kiss, winding an arm around his neck, and they remain laid out on top of the dryer, lazily making out, for several long moments, until Even pulls away, nuzzling his nose against Isak’s with a small, content sigh. There’s a shit-eating grin on his lips that Isak doesn’t really pay any mind to until Even’s lips are at his ear and he’s whispering in a low voice, “That was _loads_ of fun, baby.”

Oh, of fucking _course_ Even just _has_ to ruin the moment, and the warm contentment he’d been feeling seconds earlier dissipates, leaving Isak feeling thoroughly irritated. “Fuck _off_ ,” he grumbles with a shove at Even’s chest.

With a chuckle, Even rolls off Isak, stands up from the dryer to discard the condom in a nearby bin, and then he catches a glimpse of his shirt that is now covered in Isak’s come, and he huffs out an overdramatic sigh. “I didn’t realise you were going to make even _more_ mess for me to clean up when we came down here,” he grumbles, turning to Isak to show just how dirtied his shirt now is.

Isak makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. “That’s not _my_ fault! You could’ve easily just taken your shirt off.”

Even waves a hand dismissively at Isak’s protests, pulling his shirt up over his head, and Isak’s eyes roam over his now bare chest appraisingly, then he’s squatting down in front of a washing machine and chucking his dirty shirt inside. “Look at that!” he announces gleefully, grinning up at Isak over his shoulder. “I’m doing the laundry. All by _myself_.”

Isak rolls his eyes and hauls himself off the dryer just so he can reach out and slap Even lightly on his upper arm. “All you did was put the shirt I came on in the fucking washer, you _dolt_.”

“That still counts as doing the laundry, baby,” Even says with a wink (or, well, what _he_ thinks is a blink but what Isak would definitely call a blink) that has Isak rolling his eyes fondly at him.

“Just…do the laundry next time, please?” Isak whines.

“Maybe.” Even taps his chin thoughtfully. “ _If_ you ask nicely.”

Isak puts his hands on his hips. “I will give you all the blowjobs if it gets you to do the laundry.”

Even snorts. “ _All_ the blowjobs?”

“All of them.”

And, _well_ , that’s an offer Even can’t refuse.


End file.
